Page 83 of Those That Don't Exist
I inhale slowly through my nose, trying to clear my head, deciding to ignore the black spots in my memory until later.
The scents which hit my nostrils, however, make me freeze. From smell alone I can tell I’m not in my room. In fact, I’m somewhere completely unfamiliar.
My eyes fly open and, immediately wincing, I look around the room. It's white, and bare, except for the double bed I’m in, one bedside table adorned with an ugly lamp and the two doors lining the wall opposite.What the fuck happened last night?
The window has curtains, but they’re not drawn, the bright sun burns my retinas as I’d predicted. Head swimming, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up to look out. After a moment of dizziness where the whole world tips sideways, I squint my eyes to take in the view.
I'm shocked when all I can see are endless rooftops. They stretch out in varying colours and peaks until, in the distance, I can see the ocean. I know there are several high rise blocks of flats towards the west side of the city, where the mountains meet the edge of the suburban sprawl. I must be in one of those.But how? I don’t know anyone who lives here.
At least I’m still in Froan Bay, I guess. I take a couple more inhales but don’t get much other than the unfamiliar scent of the sheets and stale air, like the place has been locked up for a while. Ty’s scent is on the bed too so I guess he must be here somewhere, although I haven’t heard a single noise.
Thankfully, I’m still wearing the dress and underwear I went out in last night but my shoes are nowhere to be seen. I stand on shaky legs and sneak towards the two doors.
The first one I try turns out to be a closet. It's small, empty except for some hangers on the rail. I close the door and try the second. This opens up to a small open plan kitchen slash lounge. Sitting on a sagging brown leather two seater sofa is Ty, scribbling on a notepad.
Relief washes through me, at least with him I know I’m safe.
He looks tired but his posture is relaxed, further reassuring me we aren’t in any immediate danger. Maybe he knows where we are, and why. As I open the door more fully and step out the bedroom his head snaps up.
“You’re awake.” He offers me a wary smile, causing a prickling sensation on the back of my neck. “Want some water and painkillers?”
Predicting my answer he stands, chucking the paper on the beaten up coffee table in front of him before moving to the kitchen area.
“Yes, please.” My voice comes out as a rasp. I take the pills he offers and down the glass of water. The cool liquid soothes my throat. “Where are we?” I manage to say, in a much more normal voice.
“A flat in the city,” he answers as he sits back down, but this time his posture is tense.I don’t like the evasive answer.
“Who’s flat is this? Why are we here?” Gods, my memories are still so hazy. I think I remember getting in a cab.
“It's ours, for a little while at least,” he says a little sheepishly. My brows knit in further confusion, trying to remember any details from last night. This is starting to freak me out. “How much do you remember from the event?” he asks hesitantly, leaning forward on the couch. Resting his elbows on his knees and twisting his hands together, he seems anxious. It does nothing to calm the nerves coursing through me.
“I remember booze. And dancing. But not much else. How did we get here?” I push despite the empty feeling in my stomach telling me I’m not going to like the answer.
“You don’t remember drinking blood from a human? Or anything afterward?”
“No…” Although some flashes of anger and shouted words I can’t quite grasp blur around my brain.
“Red, please don’t panic.” His tone makes me start to do exactly that. “Last night, after I helped you drink from a human I left you for a few minutes so I could feed as well. I thought we were safe there. But a member of my old pack turned up. They must’ve spiked your drink. They were going to try and snatch you.”
He moves off the sofa again, coming to stand in front of me, putting his hands on my bare arms. “I’ve brought you to a safe house.”
I think he means to be reassuring but it has the opposite effect. Some of the yelling from last night comes back to me. Us arguing in the street. Ty telling me that we needed to leave.
“But what about my house?” I glare up at him, squaring my shoulders.
“Your house isn’t safe. They can’t know where you are. I did what I had to, to keep you safe.” He keeps repeating the word but each time it's making me feel anything but. I step back out of his grasp.
“I didn’t agree to this,” I tell him, waving my arm around at the flat before me. “Did you trick me into coming here?” I can barely believe the words as I say them. This is Ty, he’s helped me for months. We’ve built a relationship for months.
“What? No!” His hands drop and a flash of something passes through his eyes before he shuts it down. “You were practically passed out with whatever they spiked your drink with. But I told you we needed to find somewhere to hide out.”
“I don’t remember.” I rub the heel of my hand to my forehead, trying to recall the end of night. The thick fog only offering me glimpses. It doesn’t matter I guess. “Now I’m sober, can you take me home?”
“We can’t go back, they’ll be watching your house. Red, we can’t take them on.”
“But I’m not bonded, they can’t force me,” I argue, getting fed up with repeating myself.
“Red, I can’t stand by and watch the pack snatch you,” he snaps. “Doesn’t them drugging you not show you they’re willing to do anything to have you? They’re not waiting for your permission. It doesn’t matter that you’re not bonded.”
